
Yesterday, I deep-cleaned. Not my house—I haven’t gone completely off the deep end—but the Story Shack.
I must’ve vacuumed up enough Cheeto hair to weave an area rug. Stickie notes and scraps of paper bearing outdated reminders were all over my desk. Now they’re gone. Dust everywhere. Gone. Heinous floor. Vacuumed and twice-Swiffered. Cozy throw was fragrant and not in a good way. Now it smells like Tide. Trash emptied. Dehumidifier vents cleaned with Windex and a Q-tip. Cheeto’s water bowl freshened up. New hand vac and my favorite gardenia candles on order.
Apparently, I had been living that “nose blind” commercial. It’s like I just woke up all of a sudden, looked around, and made like Bette Davis: “What a dump.”
I had the same response when I looked in the mirror. Y’all. How did this happen? I used to have a waist, I really did. I’ve got pictures to prove it. After months of staying close to home and ordering groceries on the internet and not going to the hair salon . . . Yikes. When I finally made it back to my friend Kim’s salon, my hair was way down my back, three different colors (I tried the at-home thing), and about that many textures—flat on top, frizzy on bottom, halfway decent in the middle. At least now I have good hair. The waist? Well, I’ve started walking, mask in hand in case I encounter anybody who won’t distance.
I live in skorts, T-shirts, and flip-flops. Except for my wedding rings and another ring Mama gave me, I don’t wear jewelry any more. I haven’t been to the nail salon since March. Suddenly, I’m listening to Bob Dylan and telling Dave we need to grow our own vegetables and keep livestock in the back yard. What’s next—tie-dye and macrame?
If you’ve been cloistered like we have, are you amazed by how much stuff you’ve always done to present yourself to other people? I’ve always loved jewelry—I mean seriously loved it. But now I don’t wear it. Why is that? It doesn’t look or feel any different just because no one will see it but Dave and me. Same with shoes. Ask any of my loved ones and they will tell you: I have always been a shoe girl. With one or two exceptions, I haven’t worn anything but flip-flops since the weather got warm. I have no idea why.
Part of it is just the time factor. I’m working from home four days a week, trying to meet a September book deadline, and helping to keep groceries and necessities stocked without getting around people because this virus is bad in our city and county. But I think there’s more to it than that.
I feel myself “divesting.” Or maybe a better word is shedding—throwing off what I don’t need so there’s more time for what I do. I may not put on makeup everyday, but I do take time away from work to have lunch with Dave and break up our day together. Maybe I’m giving the jewelry a rest, but I try to water the few containers we planted because they bring us joy. I cook more of our suppers because Dave has been doing that for, oh, a couple of years now, and I figure he could use a break. (However, I do remind him from time to time that I would not object to spending money on a grill to replace the one we wore out. I do miss having the husband at the grill.)
I think there’s some shedding going on out there in the Big World, too—trying to throw off old, negative ideas and move forward, leaving room only for what’s right and just and true.
And on a personal level, I'm working to clean house, to throw out whatever serves no purpose and never belonged there in the first place, and welcome the fresh air.